


in the storms, i'll be there

by papparadise



Category: SKAM (France)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Hurt/Comfort, Lucas is oblivious, M/M, but only to start with
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-14 14:15:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18949822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/papparadise/pseuds/papparadise
Summary: When Eliott begins slipping into a depressive episode again, Lucas doesn't know what to do.





	in the storms, i'll be there

“But isn’t that just the dumbest thing?” Lucas demanded of Eliott one Friday evening, laughing and talking at the same time, following him around the kitchen with an opened can of beer in his fist while Eliott plated up some pasta. He had got out of school about half an hour ago, going straight to Eliott’s place where they’d arranged to have dinner together, since Elliot hadn’t been in school that day.  
“I mean isn’t it stupid? That Yann thought we wouldn’t guess something was up with him and Chloe? I mean, granted Basile isn’t always the most observant but Arthur’s constantly analyzing things and he’s got eyes like a hawk, even you know that by now, and it’s not like Chloe’s friends haven’t been on our case too, that blonde one y’know, with the bangs, well she’s in my bio class and you wouldn’t believe the amount of hints she drops and - ”  
“Uh huh” Eliott grunted noncommittally. “Would you mind sticking these plates on the table?”  
“And then it turns out her - what? Oh, sure, got it”. He grabbed the plates, following Eliott over to the table, half covered in bits of paper.  
“And then it turns out her other friend is into Bas, but we know that can’t be true because she barely knows the guy, they’ve hardly talked, it’s clearly a ploy to get close to Yann and - did you say something babe?” Lucas paused his rambling, only now realising he was becoming slightly breathless, still gesticulating wildly with the beer can in his other hand.  
“I said could you grab the peas, they’re on the stove, they’ll need draining”. If Eliott’s voice came out more strained than usual and a touch more gritted, Lucas didn’t seem to notice, launching back into his convoluted description of the boy squad’s latest romantic endeavours. He wandered over to the stove, beer in hand, and picked up the pan of peas, still laughing.  
“So anyway, I think it’s up to Yann to sort this out with Chloe herself, I mean we can’t do anything, he’s got to talk about - ah fuck!” Lucas gave a sudden shout as the heavy pan of peas and boiling water which he had been holding precariously with one hand tipped over and he dropped the handle. Fortunately, he was close enough to the sink that most of it landed safely, without too much running onto the floor, but the crash it made as it hit the edge of the steel sink was deafening. Lucas gave a relieved chuckle. Who needed that many vegetables anyway?  
“Fuck, that was close, sorry babe we’ve lost a few peas...you know what that means…” Lucas half turned to where Eliott had been standing, “They’re escape-peas!” He began to laugh triumphantly at his own pun, until a hand reached roughly past him to grab the pan where it banged against the side of the sink, wrenching it forcefully out of Lucas’ weak grip.  
“For fuck’s sake, Lucas. I gave you one job.” The sudden harshness in Eliott’s voice was unexpected, and Lucas’ laugh died in his throat. His boyfriend had pushed in front of him to sort out the mess in the sink, his face hidden from Lucas’ sight. The younger boy bit his lip subconsciously.  
“Sorry babe, I-”  
“It’s fine” Eliott cut him short with a voice that said it was everything but fine. “Just...go sit down, I’ll sort these out”

Suddenly uncertain, Lucas made his way over to the table, sitting down at one of the few spaces clear of paper, momentarily lost in thought. Eliott wasn’t usually like this, he was never harsh or short with Lucas - except for that time after La Petite Ceinture, Lucas reminded himself. The morning after he’d been to see Lucille, when Eliott had been in the depths of a depressive episode. Then he’d been unreachable, every emotion seeming to translate itself into annoyance and frustration, leaving Lucas lost, unable to work out what Eliott needed, what he wanted. It had seemed like there was a thick cloud over Eliott’s heart, that spilled out and engulfed the two of them, wrapping Eliott in a darkness so deep that it was impossible for Lucas to make himself seen. And with every effort Lucas made to help his boyfriend, every kind word, every meal cooked, every touch, it was as though the cloud just got thicker, Eliott grew more distant, never wanting what Lucas had to offer. It had been awful.   
But then it had cleared, gradually, and Lucas’ boy had returned to him, bit by bit, minute by minute. About a month had passed since then, and their life together had been as good as life could possibly be, Lucas thought. Eliott hadn’t yet had another episode since. And Lucas was positive that he’d notice if Eliott did slip again.

He was jolted out of these reflections when Eliott set the rescued peas on the table, and Lucas looked up searchingly into his face. The older boy gave half a smile in response, then seated himself and began eating, motioning to Lucas to do the same.   
“So anyway” began Lucas again, stabbing a piece of pasta on his fork, “What have you done all day? You said you didn’t have any classes, but I saw Alex in school, isn’t he in your class? But then, maybe he had an extra lesson, or a catch up session, or something” He speared the pasta into his mouth, chewing loudly as he continued talking, easing back into his idle chatter. “What’s all this paper by the way? It’s everywhere, couldn’t you have cleared up a bit if you were home all day? Not that you have to, it’s just taking over the apartment a bit. What is it, anyway?” He moved one hand to try and unscrunch one of the balls of paper, the other hand still energetically spearing bits of pasta on his fork. He opened his mouth to speak again, but before any sound could come out Eliott’s hand came down with a jolt, wrenching the ball of paper from Lucas fingers.   
“What are you-”  
“Lucas, please.” Eliott’s voice came out forcefully, almost violent enough to be a shout, but with a slight tremor still, like a rope pulled taut until that the threads begin to snap one by one. “Please, just stop”.   
Lucas was stunned by Eliott’s outburst again, and dropped both the paper and his fork immediately, cringing at the clatter it made as it hit his plate. He stared at Eliott with a frown which only deepened as he took in the expression on his boyfriends face. It was one he’d never seen on Eliott before, one that screamed exhaustion and frustration and...revulsion? It couldn’t be. Yet it looked like it. Eliott’s lip was drawn back fractionally, barely noticeable except to someone who knew him as well as Lucas did, to whom it almost looked like the snarl of an animal - not a gentle raccoon, but a bear or a wolf, dangerous, unforgiving. And yet, it wasn’t the snarl, or the furrowed brow, or even the clenched jaw which disturbed Lucas the most in his boyfriend’s face. It was the eyes. Their usual brightness was gone, replaced by what could only be described as fear, contradicting the angry set of the rest of his face. Eliott wasn’t looking at him, but staring at a spot on the table just to the right of his where his clenched hand lay, and Lucas found himself, for the first time in their whole relationship, afraid of his boyfriend. Not because he thought Eliott would hurt him - he would never - but because he had absolutely no idea what was going on inside Eliott’s head. It was like a curtain had been drawn behind his eyes, and all Lucas could decipher in them now was the reflection of his own stunned face.

With what looked like an intense physical effort, Eliott lifted his eyes to properly look at Lucas, sending a cold shiver down the younger boys back as he was confronted by their hard stare.   
“Do you ever stop talking? Could you maybe be calm, just for one day? Could you try and just be fucking calm for once?”  
Lucas recoiled instinctively from the sound of Eliott’s voice, each forced syllable biting at him. He was too shocked to speak for a moment, unprepared for this anger from his usually sweet boyfriend.   
“I - sorry, I just, I”  
“You know what, just…leave it. Just fucking leave it. I’ve had enough anyway” He stood up abruptly from the table, seemingly unaware of the fact that he’d hardly even started the food. He pushed himself out of his chair, letting it bang loudly on the tiles as he shoved it back under the table, and began moving towards his bedroom. Lucas blinked, regaining his composure with a sudden realisation. He thought back to what Eliott had explained, weeks ago. About how sometimes he wouldn’t be nice, would blame Lucas for nothing, would shut him out. It dawned on Lucas just how unpredictable Eliott said his episodes could be - and maybe this was one. He didn’t know what to do. But he had to do something, he couldn't just let Eliott storm off without saying anything.

“Look, Eliott, wait, please. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to prattle on, I - I know you’re not-”  
“You know I’m not what, Lucas? What exactly do you know?” His voice was a growl. “Because from what I can see you don’t seem to know fucking anything right now, you can’t even drain a pan of peas for fuck’s sake. So just. Leave. It.” He didn’t even look at Lucas as he spoke, still poised in the doorway, gripping the frame as if it had personally offended him. A pause. Stretching the silence, then breaking it.  
“Don’t talk to me like that.” Lucas didn’t know where the strength in his voice came from and frankly didn’t want to question it because if he did, he’d probably just burst into tears in his confusion, and that was the last thing they needed right now. But then, this argument - their first real argument - was also the last thing he needed, and yet here they were. The worst thing wasn’t really the arguing, although that was awful in itself. It was the not knowing, the complete lack of signals from Eliott to suggest where this sudden frustration had come from. “Don’t talk to me like that. You’re annoyed, I get it. But you know what? You’re right. I don’t fucking know anything about it, I don’t know why you’re angry when we were supposed to be having a nice meal together, because there’s no fucking way I can know unless you tell me”. He firmly ignored the waver in his voice at the end, breathless from his tirade. For a moment, as he looked at Eliott pausing in the doorway, he thought maybe the older boy would turn round and explain and they’d both apologise and get back to their pasta and it would be fine. But Eliott just let his hand drop from the door frame, gripping his other arm instead. His voice when he spoke was much quieter this time, as if the rope of his voice box had finally snapped and only the broken, jagged ends of thread were left. “I can’t, Lucas. Not right now”.   
It was the voice of resignation, of exhaustion, of total and utter defeat. Lucas was reminded again of the fact that Eliott had been at home, alone, all day, probably spending every minute stewing in this same frustration whilst Lucas had been obliviously going about his school day. Hell, he’d probably been feeling the same yesterday, only Lucas hadn’t noticed, too caught up in trying to finish a biology assignment last minute. Lucas felt terrible. He should have paid more attention. But he hadn’t.

So now, he just let Eliott go, watching him slip into the darkness of his bedroom without saying another word, left behind in the harsh kitchen light. The two barely-touched plates of pasta grew cold on the table.

* * *

For the next couple of hours, Lucas was lost in a limbo of uncertainty, not knowing whether to stay in case Eliott wanted him, or call it a night and go back to the flat. In the end, he stayed, telling himself he’d leave before 20:00 if Eliott didn’t reappear. He had mechanically cleared the table and washed the dishes, putting the uneaten pasta in the fridge for tomorrow, whilst mentally cursing himself for not making more effort to help Eliott prepare the meal earlier. And now, he was sat on the sofa, staring blankly at his phone, feeling out of place and entirely unwanted. It was only 19:20, but he was almost giving up, deciding to just leave now and text Eliott in the morning. If this was the start of a depressive episode, which he was pretty certain of by now, Eliott probably wouldn’t want to see him anyway. It would be better for both of them if he just left. 

He heaved himself off the sofa, pausing to replace each cushion to its rightful place before shoving his phone in his pocket. Quietly, to avoid disturbing Eliott, he picked up his shoes from where they were tossed under the window, then cursed under his breath as his gaze drifted outside and noticed the weather. It had been ominously cloudy when he arrived, brewing a temper which reminded him all too sharply of Eliott, and now the heavens had finally opened, sheets of rain falling in torrents against the ground, running in rivulets across the pavements as lightning slashed through the sky at regular intervals. Great. He hadn't thought to bring a jacket.  
Lucas had almost resigned himself to the thought of sprinting back home just in his shirt when he remembered a hoodie he’d left here a few days ago, after a carefree afternoon spent in Eliott’s bedroom where clothes were rendered strictly unnecessary. His half smile at the memory of it transformed into a frown as he realised that collecting the jacket would mean going into Eliott’s room, and facing him in whatever foul cloud of depression had overtaken him. However, another glance out the window made Lucas’ decision for him. There was no way he was going out in that rain without protection, dragon boyfriend or no dragon boyfriend. 

Carefully, he eased his shoes off again and crept back towards Eliott’s room, planning to slip inside, grab the hoodie, and slip out again, not wanting to force himself into Eliott’s space again. But when he gently creaked the door open into the darkened room, he found Eliott lying on top of the bed facing him, eyes trained on the door as if he had been listening to Lucas’ every move. The room was almost pitch black except for the regular bolts of lightning, which illuminated Eliott’s eyes like cats’ eyes, painting his face a ghostly white. Each flash lit up his hair where it was splayed out on the pillow, outlining every feature in bright, blinding silver. For a moment, Lucas stared, mesmerised. 

He jolted back to reality as a crack of thunder broke the tension, suddenly realising he had been stood in the doorway for far longer than was necessary.   
“Sorry.” He whispered, pushing the door further open a crack. “I just uh, I think I left a jacket in here, I was wondering if I...could grab it, before I go.” Another flash lit up the room. “It’s raining.” He added, unnecessarily, but feeling as if he needed to explain himself. For a second, the room was silent except for the steady beat of the rain on the windows and the distant rolls of thunder, painfully obvious now. But then, an almost imperceptible sigh, and -  
“You can’t go out in this”.

Eliott’s voice was unreadable, not for the first time that night. Lucas hesitated, still in the doorway, unsure whether to insist on going or relent, not knowing which one would disturb Eliott more. Admittedly, he had no desire to be going out in this storm either, but given the smallest sign from Eliott he would leave straight away, give him the space he needed. However, as the room was lit again by a flash of lightning which seemed to split the whole sky, he saw Eliott shift in the bed, wordlessly yet unmistakably creating a space for Lucas to fit next to him. Leaving the doorway, the younger boy obliged immediately, crawling up the bed to lie on his back, a mirror image of the boy beside him, both staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of the storm raging on outside. After what felt like years, but could have been minutes, Lucas turned his head slightly to the left to see Eliott’s face, watching his profile being periodically lit up by the storm. He said nothing, content just to watch, not wanting to push Eliott. An age passed. And another. And then - 

“I’m sorry” 

It was no more than a breath, really. Eliott didn’t turn his head, and if Lucas hadn’t seen his lips move he might have thought he’d imagined the sound altogether.   
Then again - 

“I’m sorry. For yelling.” Eliott’s voice was firmer this time, though still quiet, as if uttering the words was an act of strength in itself. Which, Lucas supposed, it probably was. He remembered from last time, how much effort it had seemed to be for Eliott to speak or even move sometimes, just lying in silence for hours on end, staring at nothing. Now though, Eliott seemed to push the whole force of his being into the words, forming them letter by letter in his mouth before pushing them out, riding the breath between his lips and coming to hang, heavy, in the air between them.

“I was just...frustrated. Not at you,” Elliot seemed to predict the apology that was barely brewing on Lucas’ tongue. “It’s never you. It’s never anyone.” A pause. “It’s just...me”

If heartbreak had a sound, Lucas decided, it would be the sound of thunder.

“It’s just me and my brain and my stupid thoughts and sometimes, there are days when, I don’t know, it’s like my brain is at war with itself, y’know? And I can’t, I can’t control it, any of it”

His voice cracked properly this time, and in the next flash of lighting Lucas saw a tear work it’s way down the creased cheek of the boy beside him. Slowly, without saying a word, he reached out, letting his hand rest gently on Eliott’s. 

“I just wish, I just fucking wish I could control it. Because I don’t want to hurt you, Lucas. I never want to hurt you, and I know you only ever mean to help but sometimes it’s just too much and in my brain there’s just too much and it’s so, it’s so-”

“Shhhhh, breathe, breathe.” Lucas soothed as Eliott broke off in a hiccuping sob, his breath jolting out in a shudder that shakes his whole upper body. His heart broke for the older boy, even more so because he knew he’ll never be able to understand what it’s like in Eliott’s mind, how it feels when the whirling thoughts crowd in like vultures, tearing at his beautiful mind till he’s numb. He’ll never understand, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to try.

“Hey, breathe, okay? It’s alright. You don’t have to explain anymore, if you don’t want to. Just breathe for me. I know. I know I don’t understand, and I know I can’t help you, not really.” He inhaled, watching Eliott for any sign of resistance. 

“What you go through is too deep for me to touch. But...I’m here. And I care” He tailed off, hoping that what he says will reach some part of Eliott. He began to smooth his hand over the soft skin of Eliott’s exposed wrist, desperate not to say the wrong thing. Again. 

As Eliott didn’t resist his touch, Lucas shifted closer slowly, ready to move back if Eliott resisted. But he seemed to accept it, not flinching or retracting as Lucas curled into his side, bending a leg over Eliott’s, smoothing a hand across the vast expanse of his chest to rest on the opposite shoulder, and finally bringing his head to press against the crook of Eliott’s neck. He breathed softly against the pale skin before gently, gently, brushing the ghost of a kiss against a collar bone, more air than lips. As he sank into Eliott’s body, he felt the older boy give out a shuddering sigh, as if his whole body was deflating. Without removing his arm from Eliott’s chest, Lucas allowed his fingers to trace indecipherable lines against the skin of the boy’s arm, just below where the fabric of his t-shirt sleeves stopped, each pattern a message, a promise: I’m here. You’re not alone. We’ll get through this.   
I love you.  
This last one, that Lucas still didn’t have the courage to say out loud, but felt, so deeply, with every breath he breathed, every minute he lived, every note of every piano in every universe, he traced over and over.   
I love you. I love you.   
He hoped Eliott knew.

“You can, you know”

Lucas almost jumped at the quiet sound of Eliott’s voice again, rising into the blackness around them. The lightning had stopped at some point as they lay there, the growls of thunder moving further into the distance. They had been motionless for so long that Lucas had thought Eliott had fallen asleep.

“Hmm?” he questioned, tilting his head to push his nose gently into the soft skin of Eliott’s neck. “What?”

“You can. Help me, I mean. I know, I know it doesn’t always seem like it. And you can’t make it go away, not really, but...you, being here. It helps.”

Lucas felt his lips curve, unbidden, into a smile, and he pressed it against Eliott’s neck. 

“I’m glad”

Outside, the thunder moved farther off. The rain slowed, and softly stopped.

**Author's Note:**

> yeeeee this is kinda a mess and eliott's anger escalates v quickly but nvm, i'm just a sucker for angst and comfort (and pathetic fallacy, apparently? who knew)  
> just a fluffy interlude whilst i procrastinate writing my actual fic lmao  
> kudos and comments forever appreciated <3


End file.
